


Small World

by fleurlb



Category: Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Riverdale - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2018-12-26 00:52:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12047889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleurlb/pseuds/fleurlb
Summary: Worlds collide when the Riverdale gang run into Ron and Hermione in West Covina, of all places.





	Small World

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stillscape](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stillscape/gifts).



Jughead Jones typed “Day 37” into his journal app and then sighed. What was there to say and why was this journal starting to feel like the recounting of a hostage ordeal? West Covina was fine. Practically perfect in an every-sunny-day kind of way. And he hated it. 

He never thought that he would pine for the gloom and chill of Riverdale, but here he was. He looked around the boba stand just in time to spot an awkward, pasty-faced redheaded guy step away from the counter, take an enthusiastic gulp from him cup, and then spew boba all over his table. Jughead's fast reflexes saved his laptop, but only barely.

“I am so terribly sorry,” said the guy. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out an impossibly large wad of soft expensive-looking napkins, which he used to clumsily mop up the tea.

“It's a bit of an acquired taste,” said Jughead. “No harm, no foul.”

“Pardon?” asked the guy. 

“Boba tea. It's terrible, isn't it?” 

“The worst,” agreed the guy, slumping down into the next chair. “I could murder a decent cup of tea.”

“Judging from the accent, I'm going to tell you that you won't get what you'd consider a decent cup of tea here. My grandmother was from England. She always said that the recipe for American tea was to dunk a brown crayon into tepid water.”

“I'd like to hear your grandmother describe whatever this abomination is.”

“Poor Grammy is long gone, but I can guess that she'd probably say that this stuff is like the world's worst milk shake and some tapioca pudding had a baby.”

“To be honest, I don't even believe that this drink has any actual tea in it.”

“I don't either.” Jughead smiled, and then slightly shook his head, amazed to be enjoying himself for the first time in at least 33 days. “I'm Jughead, by the way.”

“Pleased to meet you, Jughead. I'm Ron.”

“So you here on vacation? Or I guess you would call it a holiday?”

“My girlfriend is on a work trip. I just sort of tagged along. Almost by accident.”

“And now you regret it?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Nah, I'm probably just projecting. My girlfriend is here for an internship at a law firm. Why it had to be this law firm, all the way across the country, I'll never know.” He kept his tone light, but he did know. After everything that had happened – and still was happening in Riverdale – Betty had wanted a break. And he and Veronica and Kevin had tagged along, because that's what friends do. And when Cheryl showed up two weeks later, inexplicably landing an AirBnB in the same building, he hadn't even questioned it. 

“How funny. My girlfriend's business is taking her to a law firm. Wouldn't it be funny if it were the same one?”

“Hilarious. And it is a small world.” 

“It's perhaps a bit larger than you might ordinarily expect,” said the guy, a strange half-smile flitting across his face. 

Jughead returned the smile.

\---//---

Hermione kept her eyes moving, scanning, looking for the small vial that had huge potential to wreak havoc in the Muggle world. She knew it was unlikely to be sitting in the open in the nondescript waiting area, but she was taking no chances on this assignment. After seven months in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts office and another ten months in the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Wayward Magical Artefacts, she was itching to finally land a spot on the Auror squad. A few retirements were coming, soon, so a successful outing here was crucial. 

“Helen? Helloooo?” 

Hermione startled as a face suddenly loomed into her personal space. “I'm Rebecca Bunch. I'll be your attorney today, if, of course, you decide to hire me, but I can't see why you wouldn't.”

Hermione gave a small, uncomfortable smile as she stood up. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Why don't you follow me back and we can get this whole shindig started.” Rebecca made a strange whistling sound and a loose-limbed gesture that put Hermione in mind of an Awkward Angle hex.

As they walked down the hallway of what Hermione knew, from the book _Modern Muggle Workplaces_ to be a cubicle farm, she kept her eyes moving and alert. They passed an office that could be a shrine to knock-off Native American symbology and Hermione's heart fell. If the vial was in there, she'd never be able to spot it. 

But they walked into a sparsely furnished office and Rebecca gestured to her to take a seat. Hermione settled herself into a chair, crossed her legs, and took a legal pad and pen out of her briefcase. The pen was bewitched to warm when in the presence of potions. 

“One sec here, let me get my intern,” said Rebecca as she jabbed a button on the intercom three times. A few seconds later, a young blonde woman in a smartly pressed skirt and blouse combo came to the door.

“Betty, meet Helen and then prepare to take some notes. I have a feeling we'll have a customer agreement to draw up this afternoon. Am I right, or am I right?”

“Quite,” said Hermione with a tight smile. Rebecca came around and perched on the edge of her desk. The pen started to warm.

“So, Helen, why don't you tell me what we can do you for?”

Hermione started into her well-practiced cover story involving a zoning issue on a fictitious property that she inherited in West Covina. She was barely two sentences in when Rebecca interrupted her.

“I'm sorry, I have a fantastic memory for faces and mannerisms. Have we met before?”

“Em, I don't think so. I've never been to California before this trip. Now, as I was saying-”

“It's just that I'm sure I know you. I've only lived in California for a year. Maybe I met you at Harvard? Or Yale?” 

“No, I'm quite sure we haven't met.”

“But I'm quite sure we have. Just give me a minute and I'm sure it'll come to me.”

Hermione glanced over at Betty, whose eyes were wider than seemed possible without magical intervention. Rebecca leaned down once again, invading Hermione's personal space. The pen burnt Hermione's fingers and she dropped it, then had to scramble to pick it up before one of the Muggles touched it. 

“Whoopsie, careful there,” said Rebecca, back on her perch at the edge of the desk. 

“Sorry, now, if we can return to the zoning issue for a moment please.” Hermione sat up straighter and continued back into her practiced story. But Rebecca was not to be deterred. 

“It was Leaky Con, 2010. You won first prize in the Cosplay category for your flawless Hermione Granger costume,” said Rebecca, snapping her fingers. 

“I'm sorry, I've never heard of Leaky Con or Hermione Granger,” said Hermione, mentally cursing the rogue squib who had chronicled the wizarding world under the thin veil of fiction. If only the Ministry had been more on top of things, the whole book debacle could have been prevented. 

“It's okay. You don't have to be coy here. This is a safe space, right, Betty? We looooooooooooove Harry Potter around here.” 

Betty nodded, and Hermione worried that if her eyes got any wider, they would burst. 

“That's a very striking necklace,” said Hermione, focusing on her job. 

Rebecca's hand went to her neck, where a small golden vial sparkled a bit more than Muggle gold had any right to. “This old thing? And I do mean old. I scooped it on eBay. It had a crazy backstory. Would you believe it's supposed to bring the wearer luck in love?”

 _And potentially usher in the fall of civilization if it's ever opened,_ thought Hermione as she nodded politely. “And has it worked?”

“Has it ever! My boyfriend, Josh Chan, is the best. If you like this beaut, you should see some of the other stuff I've scored on eBay. Hey, I've got a great idea. Just spitballin' here, but why don't you come over tomorrow to my place for a little soiree that I'm having. Betty's going to be there, with all her friends, so the vibe will be a bit younger and hipper than usual.”

“I never...I mean, I said we weren't sure yet. It's so hard....to coordinate, you know,” stammered Betty as a blush rose on her cheeks. 

“It sounds fantastic. I really appreciate the invitation. My boyfriend Rob and I will be there.”

“Fanta-bu-lo-sis!” cried Rebecca, clapping her hands. “Betty will get you the deets. Now, let's get down to brass tacks here. The zoning on your parcel is a bunch of bollix, if you'll excuse my Queen's English.”

Hermione settled into the meeting while her mind constructed plans for how to get the vial from around Rebecca's neck. 

\---//---

“So then she kept trying to figure out where she knows this potential client from. I mean, like WAY past the point that any normal person would have stopped,” said Betty, throwing her arms wide to emphasize her point. Jughead had to scramble to protect his milkshake. The WeCoDi wasn't as good as Pop's, but at least they could mix a decent shake. 

“So then what happened?” asked Kevin, stealing a fry from Veronica.

“The client was so polite. I don't think I would've been so polite. She keeps trying to explain her zoning issue. And then Rebecca has this Eureka! moment and insists that they met at LeakyCon 2010!”

Veronica rolled her eyes. “Ugh. That's so 2010.”

“But it gets even better!” said Betty, her hands flapping like excited hummingbirds. “Rebecca is convinced that the woman won a cosplay competition for a Hermione Granger costume. Which, I suppose, does explain the familiarity. There is a passing similarity. But you guys, I was so worried that Rebecca was about to ask us which house we'd be in.”

“Why does everyone always say Gryffindor? Scratch that, I know why, it's just a freaking cliche at this point,” grumbled Jughead. 

“Not me. Slytherin forevs,” said Veronica, prompting a salute and fist bump from Jughead.

“The Sorting Hat would have overruled you both. So, back to the latest installment of my crazy boss, she then invites this potential client to her 'soiree' tomorrow. And she insists that I'm going to be there.”

“Well you are _now_ , right? I mean, we all are now, right? I've got to see how this plays out,” said Kevin. 

“I'm in, but only if we invite Cheryl,” said Veronica. “I kind of want to see her destroy your boss.”

Betty shivered. “I think that's like bringing a nuclear weapon to a garden party.”

“C'mon, it'll be fun,” insisted Veronica.

“I'm in,” said Jughead.

“You are?” asked the rest of the table in unison.

“Definitely. I just happened to meet an English guy today who's here with his girlfriend, who's here for business with a law firm. I want to find out exactly how small a world it is.”

“Well, I guess that's settled then,” said Betty. 

“To the soiree, may it be as crazy as your boss,” said Veronica, and they all clinked milkshake glasses. 

\---//---

Hermione paused at the beginning of the path up to Rebecca's flat. “So remember, you're Rob. I'm Helen. You mingle and keep an eye on Rebecca – she's definitely a devotee.”

“Ugh, not another one. I'm growing to hate those books.”

“You and me both. I'll do a scan of the place first, scoop up any additional magical items or artefacts, and then we'll do the switch-a-roo on her necklace.”

“And then we disapparate for home, right?”

“Absolutely. As fast as we can with as many items and artefacts as possible.” Hermione could nearly taste the promotion to Auror. It tasted like the finest glass of butterbeer. She hooked her arm through Ron's. 

“Here goes nothing,” he muttered as they made their way up the path and into the party, which was just as pathetic as Hermione had feared. She'd seen more revelers at a troll's birthday. 

Rebecca ushered them in and announced them with an attempt at an English accent that made Hermione's teeth hurt.

“Pip pip and cheerio. It is my great pleasure to announce Helen and Rob, fresh off the plane from jolly old England!”

A gangly fellow with sallow skin and an odd flat cap stepped up. “I thought your name was Ron.”

“Ron!” screeched Rebecca. “That would be so perfect!” 

“Err, it's not. I'm sorry. I must've spit some boba tea in your ears and you misheard me,” stammered Ron as Hermione elbowed him sharply in the ribs. 

“Oh yeah, that's definitely possible. That boba definitely got to you, pal,” agreed Jughead. 

“Where's the wine?” asked Hermione.

“You're my kind of gal,” said a middle-aged woman whose face Hermione recognized from the cubicle farm. “I'm Paula, best friend of the hostess without the most-est. Follow me. If you wait on Rebecca, you'll die of thirst.”

Hermione did as instructed, leaving Ron to hopefully not screw up his part of the plan. She was wearing a ring that served a similar function as the pen, but it required her to actually touch the item. She followed Paula into a dining room, where a variety of beverages and glasses were on a side table, that was under shelves laden with all kinds of knick-knacks. Hermione ran a practiced eye over them and identified at least four suspect items.

As Paula fixed her a drink, Hermione casually picked up the suspect items and a few others as well. She identified six magical items. Her heart sank. They were going to have to rob the place of practically everything.

“Rebecca is a fiend for eBay,” said Paula. “Especially haunted or magical stuff. It's all a bunch of a bunk, if you ask me, but Rebecca swears by it.”

“Is that so?” asked Hermione with a tight smile. 

“Yep. You see that little globe there? It's supposed to bring the bearer world domination. If you know the secret words.”

Hermione picked up the globe, and her ring zapped her with heat. 

“You kind of have grabby hands, don't you?” asked Paula. “It's a sensory issue, right? One of my sons has that. I'm forever telling him 'Look with your eyes, not with your hands' but does he ever listen to me?”

“No?” guessed Hermione as she quickly put down the small silver goblet she'd just picked up.

“Oh honey, I wasn't scolding you. Just pointing out a common issue. I think I need more wine.”

“Me too,” said Hermione with what she hoped was a conspiratorial grin. She made a mental note of all the items that she had to take with her and was thankful for her bewitched handbag. 

After making polite small talk with Paula for what felt like an eternity, she asked for the loo and then followed the directions out into the hallway to the stairs, where a dark-haired girl with sleepy eyes was asking lazy-sounding but sharp questions of a blonde girl who was the living embodiment of a Muggle-type that Hermione thought didn't exist: the goth cheerleader. 

“So, let me get this straight. Your dad killed your brother and your mom burned down your house, but your beef is that they loved him better and neither takes you seriously enough to take over their maple syrup empire?”

“I didn't exactly say that,” huffed the goth cheerleader. “Presumptuous much?”

“You didn't have to. It's obvious, if you know what to look for. Also, I really admire your decision to aim your weapons-grade anger and frustration on external vexation. Too many women turn that shit inward, with predictably disastrous results.”

“Excuse me,” said Hermione as she stepped past them up the stairs. At the top, she went right instead of left and scoured Rebecca's bedroom quickly, lifting everything that pinged her ring. Then she made a return trip downstairs, lifted everything suspect in the dining room, and did what she hoped was a subtle sweep of the living room. That left only the kitchen and the bathroom. 

She sent a text to Ron's watch (how she loved some of the Muggle technology) to tell him to sweep the bathroom and she'd join him there in five minutes. Which stretched to fifteen after she got cornered by Rebecca at the bottom of the stairs. Ron periodically poked his head out of the bathroom and gave her imploring looks, but Rebecca was still insisting that she must have been at LeakyCon, if not in 2010 then maybe in 2012, which had apparently been epic.

“Uh, Rebecca, can you help me in the kitchen for a minute? I can't find the can opener,” said Betty, giving Hermione a look that she felt certain was a rescue.

She took the opportunity to bolt up the stairs to the bathroom. She tried not to feel guilty that the can opener, a bewitched Muggle artefact, was in her handbag. 

“What took you so long?” asked Ron. He had an ugly painting in his hands, on top of which were balanced half a dozen apothecary bottles. 

“Honestly,” sighed Hermione. “That woman is relentless.”

“A little help here?” asked Ron, nodding to his precarious burden.

Hermione plucked her wand out of her handbag. “No time. We've got to-”

She was interrupted by the door swinging open, revealing the confused face of the one they inexplicably called Jughead.

“Rob? Helen? What's going on here, guys?” 

“I'm terribly sorry,” said Hermione. “Obliviate!”

“Aww, I hope you didn't do too much damage to him. He's a decent chap.”

“Ron, honestly. I know how to obliviate without, well....obliviating. Now, are you ready to get out of here?”

He gulped and nodded, then they disappeared in a swirl of disapparition. 

\---//---

Jughead looked around the boba stand, a strange feeling of deja vu rumbling in his head. Or maybe that was just part of the hangover from Betty's crazy boss's party. A feeling nagged at the back of his mind, like a snapshot from a forgotten dream. 

All he could remember was a flash of light, then nothing. _Must have been the light from an oncoming train. Or maybe it was West Covina finally collapsing in on its cheerful self like a dying star._

Jughead Jones typed “Day 39” into his journal. 

/the end


End file.
